


Lab of Sorrow

by kamilink



Category: Persona 5, Persona 5 Royal, Persona Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Other, Persona 5 Spoilers, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:35:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24676237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kamilink/pseuds/kamilink
Summary: An alternate timeline in which the palace in Odaiba is discovered months earlier, in July.When change comes so easily—it can easily be taken for granted.
Relationships: Persona 5 Protagonist/Yoshizawa Sumire | Yoshizawa Kasumi
Comments: 28
Kudos: 117





	1. After the Festival

**Author's Note:**

> I've written a few things on my own, but this is the first time I've ever written a fanfic. I was definitely inspired by a lot of the fics here, namely Masquerade and Rig the Game: Royal. There's really too many great ones on this site for me to name, but if you haven't read those two yet--they completely blew away my expectations. Seriously, they're fantastic.
> 
> Anyway, I apologize if this is a little rough, and possibly a little too short. It's been a little too long since I've written.

She stared uselessly at the blank walls in front of the construction site. Looking down, her mind once again drifted towards her sister. If she could muster just an ounce of strength—just one modicum of grit—she felt that she could finally actualize her and her sister’s dreams of reaching the top. But her inexplicable lack of progress in her training had cast a thick fog between her eyes and the top of the gymnastics world, and though she felt that fog part ever-so-slightly when _his_ words (few as they were) fell on her lucky ears, her coach had correctly observed that she was still missing something. Something she deigned must have been so insultingly _obvious_ , as it felt as if everyone but her could see it.

Such an assumption, however, brought no further clarity. After all, if it was so obvious, why hadn’t _he_ mentioned it? Through how much he had helped her already, was there something he was holding back? He was always so impossibly difficult to read, what with his near total lack of facial expression and complete deadpan tonality, that there could have been an insurmountable amount of thoughts and feelings he probably, selfishly decided wasn’t important enough to tell her. Or maybe he mirrored her coach’s suggestion, and wanted her to naturally come to such a revelation on her own?

Placing her head in the palm of her hand, she decided she wouldn’t press him. Trying to rationalize his awkward (albeit, in some way charming to her) behavior was quickly giving her a headache. At the end of the day, he owed her nothing. Some measly gymnastics drilling and a few botched bentos couldn’t possibly compare to the hope he had given her—and that wasn’t even mentioning the times he had wordlessly, in his usual fashion, stood up for her without hesitation. But—once again—why? Was he merely pitying her, like everyone else?

No, he was the only one who bothered to reach out to her. Their relationship was mutual, no matter how unfair the benefits she reaped were. Something unsaid between them stuck her and the object of her attention together, and clearly separated itself from the frustration she felt when Kasumi—

When Kasumi…

No, when Sumire, her sister…

But what could Sumire have possibly done to upset her?

The headache she had tried to suppress quickly returned, almost mercifully leaving her mind to focus on nothing but the pain.

* * *

Ren Amamiya, in turn, absent-mindedly thumbed at his phone screen before catching the faint glimpse of bright red hair in his peripheral vision. His head instantly darted in its direction. There, at the complete center of his attention, was one Kasumi Yoshizawa who, much to his concern, had her usual infectious cheer replaced by what looked to be an expression clouded by puffy red eyes, even from a distance.

“Ren?”

He turned to Ryuji, who had momentarily snapped him out of his almost obsessively extended staring fit.

Often to his detriment, he had developed a habit of doing so without much care for what the target of his intense glaring thought of him. It wasn’t as if he was actually trying to intimidate anyone, he rationalized. But even then, he wasn’t so sure he believed that himself. The past few months of his life proved that—yes, he was in fact capable of things his past self would have never dreamed of. And such evidence of his prowess as a Phantom Thief—an unshakable cause for justice—had to have, in some way, affected his ego. This beget a constant struggle between the part of him that dwelled within his slick, white domino mask, and the part of him that wore vanity glasses to blend in more and worked part-time at a sappy flower shop to exercise compassion for others. Through great effort, he had even learned to block out the constantly evolving rumors his school had delighted in spreading about him!

Evidently, one side of him had a tendency to spill over more than the other. His affectionately titled ‘resting dick face’ was an obvious tell.

“Hey, Ren! Do you wanna get out of here or what?” Ryuji once again pulled him out of his trance, waving his hand vigorously in front of his face.

Ren turned back to Kasumi’s direction. “Go on without me. I have something to do.”

Ryuji raised one of his small, black eyebrows before issuing a resigned sigh, as if he refused to think too hard about what his leader’s intentions could be. “Alright, then. I’ll text you later. Don’t take too long, yeah?”

“Very well. Thank you two for bringing me along today,” Yusuke said, in his usual milky singsong sort of voice. “This only excites me more for the fireworks festival!”

The two promptly left Ren—and by extension, Morgana—alone, completely unaware of Kasumi’s presence. It would seem she was completely unaware of theirs’ too, as she didn’t spare so much as a glance as Ren approached her.

Morgana whispered from the depths of his bag. “Good idea shooing those two idiots away. This looks serious, huh?”

Ren could only hope that his cat wasn’t right, as his recent outings with his underclassman had rendered him more emotionally invested than he would have ever initially allowed himself to be, considering the risk Kasumi’s reputation ran from spending time with the knife-toting, gangbanging, purse-stealing, ivory-poaching transfer student that had attracted the ire of just about anyone with a boring enough life to make up stories about someone else. Granted, that first one wasn’t _entirely_ wrong. And if being the center of so many ridiculous rumors brought that kind of comedy, he figured he’d just roll with it.

He would chuckle, but the scowl that had formed from the currently more pressing matters overpowered his morbid sense of humor.

“Geeze. I never see you frown that much even when we’re inside a palace,” the cat remarked.

* * *

When one speaks of the devil, it is said that a (mostly) unassuming high school student shall appear. And so he did. A familiar frizzy-haired boy entered the corner of Kasumi’s eye, prompting her to instantly turn to her left much like Ren had done moments before. She quickly squeezed her eyes shut and rubbed them in a futile attempt to erase any evidence of her tears.

“Senpai?” she called out. She blinked once. Thankfully, he was still there, and she wasn’t just hallucinating what she wanted most at that moment. Wait, what she wanted most?

Ren saw her slap her own cheeks and shake her head for seemingly no reason. Disregarding how cute he thought that was, he stopped in front of her and cut right to the chase with no greetings. “Are you okay?”

“O-oh. Is it that obvious?” She sniffled.

He did his best to soften his expression. “Yeah.”

Kasumi slowly broke eye contact while nervously clasping her fingers together. “I guess I just needed to give myself a pep talk. Sometimes, when things get me down, I come here. Although, that doesn’t really answer your question, does it?” she said, in the most upbeat tone she could muster.

“You know, I did agree to hear you out when it comes to this sort of thing,” he said before she could continue, retrieving a pocketed hand to adjust his glasses. “Either me or Dr. Maruki—that’s what his job is after all, and I’m sure he’d be happy to talk to you, too.”

“I guess I’m just afraid of only ever offloading my problems to you two. You’ve both done so much for me, so I wouldn’t want to betray that kindness by showing you that I haven’t really changed at all…”

Ren raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think I would ever classify that as betrayal. If you need help, then you need help.”

The raven-haired boy in front of her never ceased to catch her off guard at every turn. She looked up at him, studying his stormy grey eyes. She found much more emotion than she was used to seeing from him. And yet, this didn’t scare her—rather, she found herself wanting to know more about this side of him. As much as she had her own problems, at that moment she found herself wanting nothing more than to just talk to what she considered to be her best friend. It didn’t have to be about anything in particular, really.

She let a burst of bottled up air release from her lips as she finally relented. “I guess you’re right. It may interfere with your plans, but do you want to talk more somewhere else?”

Inside her mind, she was kneeling down before a shrine with her hands clasped together, praying to any god that he wouldn’t say no.

“Sure.” With the plans with Yusuke and Ryuji over for the day, Ren wouldn’t have had it any other way. Even then, he could make exceptions…

“Oh, great! I hope you’re hungry then—I was thinking lunch would be a good idea.” Kasumi beamed bright enough to blind him, were it not for his fake glasses and the tufts of wavy black hair partially obscuring his eyes.

Ren couldn’t help but return the smile. However, curiosity still pecked at the back of his head like an exceptionally persistent crow. “Why did you come here, anyway? Wasn’t this supposed to be a lab or something like that?”

“Maybe, but at least for now the plan has been to build a stadium. It’s almost done, too.” She returned her gaze to the construction site in front of them. “You could say my reasoning was to try and get myself familiar with this place, so I don’t get as nervous when I have to come here for a meet. One of the more important ones is scheduled to be here once it’s finished.”

Ren opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by the all-too-familiar feeling of a short-lived migraine, followed by his entire vision tinting with purple. Heart rate already rapidly rising and thief instincts in full gear, his eyes darted all over the place to grasp the situation as quickly as he could before falling on the massive structure that replaced the unfinished stadium.

_Shit._


	2. Created Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The palace, rather than bolstering her resolve, threatens to shatter the truths that Kasumi has come to know. Meanwhile, the line between Joker and Ren Amamiya further blur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was a little busy this weekend, so I didn't have quite as much time as I might have liked to put this chapter out. I know this probably feels like things are coming along at an absolute snail's pace, as I've never been very good at writing long chapters. That being said, spring quarter is going to be over in the next couple days, so I'm about to have a surplus of free time to work on that!
> 
> Thank you, everyone, for the prior support. I think I can speak for a lot of authors here when I say that any feedback, positive or critical, keeps me wanting to write more.  
> (seriously, it's 6am and I just want to keep going)

_Shit._

In front of Ren was an incomprehensibly massive structure that, to him and probably anyone else, made no physical sense. The past three palaces he had infiltrated were at the very least _somewhat_ believable in stature. What could only be described as a giant ball of light surrounded a spiraling crystalline tower, both of which were surrounded by truss beams somehow suspended midair with oversized cameras, telescopes, and searchlights attached and actively moving. Down by the ground, part of the walls for the construction site were gone, revealing an ornate porcelain-like path leading down to a small plaza. 

He no longer felt the weight of his cat-bag, then looking down at himself to notice his change of apparel. The white domino mask rested upon his face once again, but the confidence this brought quickly subsided. A red gloved hand instinctively reached for the knife sheathed at his hip, hidden beneath his long tailcoat. After tapping the pommel to confirm he was armed and ready, he looked to Morgana, who stood in front of him—his cat form relinquished to reveal a cartoonishly heavy-headed cat burglar. 

“This is…we’re in the Metaverse, aren’t we?” Morgana questioned, quickly taking notice of his own form change. 

With no sign of Kasumi, Ren began to take heavier breaths. “Where is she?” he grunted, half to himself and half to his biology-defying companion. 

“Yoshizawa?” Morgana responded. 

Ren clenched his fist and continued his labored breathing in an effort to cool himself down. “Who else would I be talking about?” 

Morgana furrowed his brow, though he somewhat understood his friend’s pain. “Calm down, Joker. I can sense her further in. I don’t know how she ended up ahead of us, but we need to hurry—she can’t fight like we can!” 

Ren, now allowing his metaverse alter-ego’s mindset to completely wash over him, wordlessly turned behind him and swung over the gate in front of the white path leading to what seemed to be the entrance, already breaking into a sprint as soon as he landed. “That’s assuming it was us who activated the Nav!” he chimed as he ran. His mind raced leagues faster than his body, running through dozens of possible scenarios, bad and good. Though he didn’t sense the immediate presence of shadows, his adrenaline nonetheless spiked him into survival mode. 

Spotting an elevator and no alternative routes, he practically body-slammed the button to call the elevator and threw himself into the cab, only barely sticking his arm out to stop the doors from locking out Morgana, who somehow tailed close behind despite his short, stubby legs. The elevator, much to Joker’s (slight) relief, brought himself and Morgana to the next floor rather swiftly. He quickly advanced further into the room, only stopping for a few seconds to analyze a way forward. 

The room they found themselves in consisted of even more cameras, suspended by thick, almost organic-looking wires. Two flights of stairs lead to several rows of information boards that cluttered most of the room. White banners draped down from raised walls that bore a multitude of vaguely sinister sounding messages. Joker only bothered to waste time reading one. 

_YOUR HAPPINESS IS MANDATORY_

“I don’t think Yoshizawa is here! Can we get any further in?” yelled Morgana, Joker’s anxiety beginning to rub off on him. 

The domino-masked thief spotted a singular door, promptly scaling a wall to get to reach it. He lunged forward with his shoulder towards the door, only for it to remain frustratingly un-budged. Slamming his fist against the door, its assailant swore aloud. “Damn it!” 

Morgana cocked his head upwards, his massive blue eyes searching for any possible detour. A white tile path lead up from the ground and melded itself into a convenient way forward made of the strange looking wire. “Joker! Up there!” 

His head shot towards where his fellow thief was pointing, spotting the path and a broken overhang above it. 

“Looks to me like that could be a foothold! Let’s see if there’s a way to climb up!” 

On command, Joker scooped up Morgana, bounced off of the path on the ground, and flicked his wrist to deploy the grappling hook towards their destination. The two swung across the room, Joker quickly springing his legs off another section of wire and redeploying the mechanism on his wrist to reach the highest point he could. Once his comically pointy boots met solid ground, he freed Morgana from his arms and dropped to the ground to slide on the downwards slope in front of them. 

“Who’s there?!” a familiar but muffled voice practically screamed. 

_Damn it! Please_ _make it_ _on time!_

Morgana, sliding right behind Joker, called out near the top of his voice upon spotting a familiar red ponytail just ahead of them. “Joker, look! That’s Yoshizawa! Yoshizawa and—” 

“—another Kasumi?” Joker came to a skidding stop at the bottom of the slope, immediately perplexed by what he saw. Just below the platform where he stood was what looked to be two Kasumi Yoshizawas—one dressed in the familiar blue polka-dot blouse and white skirt from earlier with her hair remaining tied in a fluffy ponytail by a bright red ribbon; the other dressed in an ornate, icy-blue gymnastics leotard adorned with masterful stitchwork paired with white ballet shoes. The latter Yoshizawa wore her hair down, the bottom of her hair reaching near the small of her back, though her bangs remained largely the same as they brushed the top of a pair of black-framed glasses. 

Joker, and the Ren Amamiya that dwelled within, did his best to ignore his own confusion and stamp out any runaway thoughts that could distract him. He had to act. Now. And as he yanked his blade out of its sheath, letting it stylishly roll across the back of his hand and into his palm, he felt a sickening presence make itself known to him. It was close to the twin Yoshizawas. Too close. 

\--- 

Tears once again began to swell at the base of her eyes, threatening to break free and stream down her cheeks at any moment. Why? No, how was her sister here, in this otherworldly labyrinth of a stadium? She voiced that same question aloud, only for it to illicit no response. 

“I…it’s my fault…” her sister muttered. 

“Stop…” Kasumi pleaded. 

“Kasumi…you must…” 

“STOP IT!” She could no longer stand her sister’s image being toyed with, if only to torment her further. Her migraine grew stronger, forcing her to her knees as the pain reverberated throughout her entire mind and body. Whatever hell she was in, she couldn’t bear it, even if she thought she deserved it. The weight of her past struck her all at once as she was reminded of the day she had lost her sister, repressed memories resurfacing and renewing her guilty agony. She gripped her stomach, her nausea at last threatening to revoke the little food she had elected to eat that day. 

Something else was there, though. Something at the edge of her mind that, when focused on, flushed her with a familiarity somehow beyond even that of a bond between siblings when she looked upon the imitation of her so-called deceased sister. She focused as hard as she could, pushing through both anguish and foggy memories to find her answer, or at least a clue. Who did her sister remind her of? 

That train of thought was cut short when she looked upon a horrifying black mass gathering just behind the red-haired imitation in front of her. The mass coalesced enough to achieve a physical form—something that, while humanoid, more resembled some kind of twisted interpretation of what an alien creature might have thought a human was supposed to look like. Its entire body was all too thin and uncomfortably gelatinous, having two nondescript tendrils in the place of actual hands. Looking upon its face, Kasumi was terrified to find that it bore nothing but a hypnotically patterned mask from which two piercing white orbs gazed straight towards her from beneath the mask. 

The creature shook violently before suddenly extending its arms towards the imitation of Kasumi’s sister. They whipped her mercilessly, sending her straight to the ground in front of the other Yoshizawa. She let out one final cry as she reached out towards her sister. Her body began to dissolve into the same, otherworldly black substance that her attacker had materialized from. 

“You...must...” 

Kasumi silently rejected her hand, not knowing why she was so sickeningly averse to seeing her sister in this way, and so cold to her—even if it was just an imitation. Pictures were one thing—memories were another—but having to confront an actual, physical image of her sister filled her with a volatile denial that forcefully tore itself from her subconscious. She couldn’t begin to fathom what exactly what she was denying, as if it was some unknowable truth that taunted her and planted itself at the top end of a metaphorical endless staircase. 

“...HERESY,” the creature growled. Its low-rolling voice bore into her in mind like a hostile invader, the words replaying themselves within her head. “YOU DARE TO SPURN OUR LORD’S MERCY...” 

It let loose a guttural screech as its form changed once again, morphing into an even less sanely reconcilable abomination. If its last form was what a celestial onlooker thought a human might look like, then its new appearance more closely resembled what would happen if the same being scribbled onto a canvas with a random assortment of colors. The bright yellow, winged eldritch creature raised itself a few feet from the ground, as if preparing itself to deliver an ideally swift, but merciful end to the checklist of shortcomings that was the remaining Yoshizawa’s life, beginning, middle, and now—the end. 

_I was an idiot to ever think that I could live up to her name_. 

\-- 

The inside of her ear tickled at the sound of a metallic _twang_. Raising her head, she saw a long wire of unknown origin latch itself onto the creature’s body before rapidly tightening and pulling something on the other end. 

Faster than she could track, something flew across her field of view. Whatever it was seemed to glide right past the unfathomable being and landed soundlessly on the pristine marble floor. A copious amount of the same black substance from before then spilled from the creature’s body, followed by it crashing to the ground and slowly dissolving into empty space. 

She looked to the figure from before as it turned to face her, and the first thing she noticed was a distinct pair of stormy grey eyes. 


	3. Revelation from a Smile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shadows of regret take both physical and metaphorical form.

_Stormy grey eyes._

Kasumi recognized the person in front of her in no time, despite his...eccentric getup. And although she recognized him, something had changed aside from his outward appearance. His eyes were wide, just barely containing an overwhelmingly threatening, almost devilish gaze. Those eyes briefly scanned the room before settling on her.

“...Senpai?”

The raven-haired boy in front of her drew in a deep breath through his nose before quickly letting it back out through his mouth. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” he sighed. He knelt down, extending a hand, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly and forming a warm expression of concern that Kasumi hadn’t yet gotten used to seeing from him. She stared hesitantly at the red glove in front of her, not completely sure if her senpai in full Tuxedo Mask cosplay wasn’t also an illusion.

But she decided to take the risk for the chance at any kind of comfort, especially from him. She wrapped her hand around his, feeling a warmth that, under any other circumstances, would have made her feel absolutely giddy. She used his hand to pull herself towards him, quickly burying her face in his collar as best she could. Still holding on to her hand, she felt his free arm slowly wrap around her back, his hand carefully tracing a path from there to the back of her head, where it gently secured her place in his arms, letting her relax at least a little bit.

In that moment, it was all she could ask for. The entire day—no, for some unfathomably long time she’d felt the same constant pressure. The pressure to uphold expectations. The pressure to fear rejection. The pressure to smile. The pressure to live. The pressure to die.

And while, regrettably, being held so protectively did not at all wash her problems away, it did comfort her to have it physically proven to her that this boy she only knew at a very base level wouldn’t abandon her at her worst. Of course, she had been taking notes—he liked to talk to his cat, for example. But those were things that she had merely observed about him, not things he had willingly shared with her. She wanted those things—not just when she was depressed, or her life was put in danger. To be able to give and take equally each other’s vulnerabilities. To be able to, if only for a few short moments, have some of each other’s pressures relieved by doing what they were now. It hurt to have this one person, the only one who felt sincere, still be so guarded. Every time she looked at him, she saw some of herself in his eyes—like he bore some of that same fear of rejection she had become so intimately familiar with. To be fair, though, she hadn’t exactly been forthcoming, either. How could she be, when she couldn’t often manage to be honest with herself?

Ren, meanwhile, panicked. His mask was faltering faster and faster with each moment this girl held on to him. Not only had it been a very long time since anyone had shown any semblance of physical intimacy with him—romantic or not—the one who was currently doing so chose to in the middle of a likely shadow-ridden deathtrap. He had gotten extremely lucky—the shadow he had slain didn’t see him coming at all, leaving its defenses pretty much non-existent. The pressure he had sensed from that very same shadow far surpassed most of the measly bottom feeders he had gotten used to steamrolling both in Mementos and during his past three missions.

He understood that Kasumi had likely just been shown something that forced some hard-hitting memories—that cognition was probably someone important relative from her past, after all. Did they pass away? Move away? He understood that she was just seconds away from losing her life, and probably wanted to latch on to the closest non-hostile thing to her by instinct. That’s most likely all it was, right? Instinct. He was perceptive, but that didn’t mean he was completely immune to any form of confirmation bias. Every small gesture she gave that said, “I genuinely like you!”, every extended glance, every blush and nervous break of eye-contact, every warm smile, every time she said, “with you, Senpai, I feel like I could take on the world!”; all of it could have just been her showing appreciation for agreeing to give her the encouragement she needed to finally improve. Even if he didn’t really care about those results—seeing her happy was enough reward on its own. Though, it felt like he wasn’t exactly capable of doing even that for her. What was really holding her back? What was holding him back?

_You can waste time overthinking this later._

A soft ‘pitter-patter’ against the marble was followed by a familiar boyish voice. “That was some quick thinking, Joker! Is Yoshizawa okay?”

Kasumi whipped around, still holding on to Ren’s hand. She looked up and down at what was in front of her, blinked, and then looked again. “…Senpai?”

“…Yeah?” responded Ren, still trying his best to stay calm, especially in front of the ‘Saturday morning cartoon’ character that he called a teammate.

“…What am I looking at?”

While the cat creature furrowed his brow, ready to retort with something probably along the lines of ‘I’m a human, dammit!’, Ren began to chuckle before introducing him. “You wanna do the honors?”

“Thought you’d never ask! _I_ am Morgana, this guy’s bona-fide partner in crime!” Morgana gave one of the more annoying looks of arrogant self-satisfaction, but Ren was used to it by then. “Anyway, you two certainly look comfortable. You should be proud, Yoshizawa—I don’t think I’ve ever seen Joker with a look like _that_ on his face.”

“Huh?” She turned around again to investigate Morgana’s teasing. Ren, however, had already turned his head completely to the side, covering his face with his hand. Kasumi let a coy smile creep from her lips. “Always so stoic, aren’t you Senpai?”

Ren pinched the bridge of his nose. “Ignore him. He likes to pretend he’s more perceptive than everybody else.”

“Hey, I resent that!”

Kasumi’s coy smile was then replaced with a look of wild curiosity. “By the way, he means you when he calls you ‘Joker’, right? What’s that all about?”

“It’s a—” Ren was cut off by the distinct and all-too-recognizable hiss of several shadows crawling into existence around them. That’s right—that was half the reason he was anxious in the first place. How could he forget and just sit there, in the middle of the room, like an idiot?

They were still in a fucking palace.

Or whatever it was—it felt different somehow, but he didn’t have time to ponder the details. He jumped to his feet, reluctantly wrenching himself free from Kasumi’s surprisingly strong grip and yanking his knife from the side of his hip. Looking around, he saw that four of the same shadow from before were slowly closing in on them.

Ren focused himself and, re-entering the ‘persona’ of Joker, he gave instruction in the most authoritative tone he could. “Mona, get Kasumi out of here if you can. I’ll buy us time.”

“Uh, it looks like we’re surrounded, Joker! And besides that, are you insane?! They’re way stronger than anything we’ve fought before, and there’s _four_ of them—they’ll turn you into paste!” Genuine panic made its way onto Morgana’s usually pompous gaze.

“I’ll worry about them. Protect her, no matter what—got that?” Joker, his back still turned, tilted his head to both make sure Morgana knew he was serious and to reassure the girl he was about to try and pull off something suicidal for. She looked up at him with wide, teary eyes, her grip finding a new home at the back of his coat. He softly pushed her away and smiled as best he could. “Stay close to Morgana and you’ll be fine. I’ll make it back to you—I promise.”

And before Kasumi knew it, the raven-haired boy left her grasp and stepped forward, the four identical and equally revolting creatures setting their sights on him as he made himself known. His voice, his stare, his posture—his whole demeanor was almost completely different. She knew the boy who was had just comforted her was Ren—the same quiet but earnest, calculating but kind, somewhat awkward but at the same time charming boy she had come to adore over the past couple months. _But who was this that took his place?_

He took another step forward before turning on that heel and springing backwards, sending himself into a backflip. The backflip was deliberate—not just style—he aimed to glide just above the shadow in front of him, giving him the perfect opportunity to reposition and attack where its guard would be down. Twisting his hip to shift his body weight, he spun midair and swung his weapon in one perfect motion. The blade of the knife met little resistance, cutting cleanly through his target’s flesh and claiming its black blood for its own as it caked the knife’s glistening silver frame.

_This boy that exuded both carefulness and cockiness, kindness and ruthlessness._

Falling straight into a graceful recovery roll, Joker sprung back to his feet and swiftly drew his handgun from his hip. He placed three shots into the three shadows he had yet to damage—more to draw their attention than anything else; he definitely didn’t expect them to drop dead just from one bullet each. A wicked grin, born both from the relief of the shadows taking his bait and leaving his friends alone—and the sick joy he tended to derive from a good challenge, flashed across his face.

_This boy that willingly surrendered his time for her and seemed to enjoy doing so, whether he was cheering her on or coming to her rescue._

All grew quiet as the creatures approached. Kasumi screamed internally for Ren to run, but he did nothing but stand and watch. She saw an almost imperceptible flicker in his eyes, which she somehow knew meant that he was planning something, that he had another ace up his sleeve in his already long list of surprises he had shown her today. He slowly brought his hand up to his face, his fingertips brushing against his mask. Time seemed to slow down, anxiety searing in her chest as the creatures grew even closer. Her legs threatened to spring her forward into action—to do anything to save him from what looked to be certain death. Until he uttered one word, that, despite it being barely more than a whisper, she heard clear as day.

_This boy whose smile, rare as it was, gave her hope in all its blinding radiance._

“Persona.”

_This boy that, despite their limited time together, she had managed to fall in love with._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams are over, and thus concludes spring quarter. Praise be.  
> Maybe I can try to start making these chapters longer... sorry things have been moving so slow!


	4. A Faltering Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ren nearly kills himself attempting to protect what he values most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait. I shouldn't have promised a deadline that I couldn't uphold, knowing full well that I'm the least consistent writer in the universe. I hope that you all enjoy this new chapter, nonetheless, and I will of course work on my timeliness in the future. As I write this, I am beginning chapter 5, so hopefully it doesn't stay in my OneDrive half finished and rewritten several times like this one. Cheers!

He was ruthless. One by one, Joker had dismantled the foes in front of him. No matter what they threw—he had a contingency for everything. And as the finely dressed manifestation of his rebellion pulled its claw from the throat of a now-dissipating, scythe wielding jester, he showed not a modicum of fatigue. He was both beautiful and terrifying, the black blood of the fallen dotting his coat, gloves, and face.

But the enemy was ruthless, too. They came in endless swathes, always getting ever so slightly closer with each assault. No matter how graceful and brutal he was, Joker could not maintain perfect rhythm forever. The shadows knew this. And so they bid their time until he slipped up, became increasingly aggressive as their exchanges grew longer and the whole battle dragged on, minute after minute of precious time.

Morgana hid himself and Kasumi with some spare stealthanol deodorant (how exactly it worked, not even he knew)—the only infiltration tool that fate conveniently left on him. Unfortunately, fate also decided that a spare smoke bomb to help Joker break through enemy lines would be a little _too_ easy.

He turned to Kasumi. She looked as anxious as she did helpless, a sentiment that the cat regrettably shared. He may have been hot-headed, but even he knew Ren would have his ass if he left Yoshizawa alone now. The best he could do was try to comfort her while they were sitting ducks.

“You okay, Yoshizawa?”

She swallowed. No. No she was not. She had many, many questions, and equally as many worries. She was trapped in a strange, nonsensical place that mocked her sister’s image, surrounded by creatures beyond her wildest imagination, all while her best friend fought said creatures with the combined effort of several ghost-like beings that were apparently called “Persona”. It was immensely concerning how brutal he could be, but she figured that was probably what they needed at the moment.

Morgana had done a decent job of explaining these things, but no explanation could quell her disbelief. It was apparent that these things were very real—she had come to terms with that—but the trauma of confronting it could prove to be too great.

It reminded her of something.

That thought process, however, would not last. She couldn’t help but focus on the black and red blur that had just been flung across her sightline. Her heart stopped.

* * *

Joker braced himself. He evaded too many times without counterattacking, thus backing himself into a position from which he couldn’t escape. Seeing that the shadows were already capitalizing on his blunder, he threw his guard up in anticipation of the coming riposte. Yet, as tight as his stance was, he felt inexplicably naked, as if he were missing something vitally important.

He felt gravity momentarily leave him, the air rushing past his ears. His nerves screamed in agony, instantly signaling his brain to change from _fight_ to _run_ —just run, as far as you can from this. Then, he hit the floor _hard_. His lungs screamed for precious oxygen, but the rest of his body wouldn’t comply. So, for a moment, he could only lay there. Thinking.

That’s what it was. That’s why that hurt so much. That’s why his arm and ribs were probably broken. That’s why his brain had been violently knocked around inside his skull. It was as puzzling as it was frustrating.

* * *

Kasumi screamed his name, followed by Morgana doing the same.

“I don’t understand! His Persona should have shielded him!”

Bingo. But there was no time to ruminate on his miscalculation. Joker was about to die a stupid, gruesome death if he didn’t end things soon. He forced himself to his feet, tearing the mask from his face and summoning a scarf-clad Celtic spearman to his side. The two postured, which called forth a rapid increase in their attack power. Seeing that he had ceased his efforts at evasion, the shadows all lunged to his position with murderous aggression, threatening to reduce him to a red and black stain.

“JOKER! RUN!” Mona pleaded, scrambling in his direction.

He let them come.

Kasumi begged whatever gods might be listening to protect his life, even if it cost hers. She pushed herself off the ground with all the strength she could muster, following in Morgana’s footsteps. She couldn’t lose him. Not now. Not ever. Not after what she had just come to realize about what he meant to her.

_Please don’t die. Please make it in time._

He didn’t know their weakness, and he didn’t have enough time to figure it out, but he figured one thing had almost never failed him. Everything bleeds.

“ARSÈNE!”

All he initially thought about was the four Byakhee in front of him. Not his own physical or mental limitations, and the permanent damage he could cause from pushing those boundaries. Not the pain from his mistake moments earlier. And while he acted to preserve his own life, as any halfway-rational being would, the greater motivator was of course two of the most important figures in his life.

If he died now, he might not be able to guarantee their safety, he considered. However, if he never put his life on the line, how could he ever hope to save anyone? He was lucky to have teammates that rarely needed saving; he was competent enough on his own—unbelievably so—but he would be a fool not to rely on them. But here he was, outnumbered and outmatched, fighting for not only his own life, but the life of Kasumi Yoshizawa and his mentor best friend, Morgana. The girl who nearly shattered his front, and the cat that made him who he was.

He could not accept loss. As selfish as he might have thought it might be, he did it for himself just as much as he did it for them. He wanted to live to smile with them again. A world where he sacrificed that just kill his enemy wasn’t a world he was going to let exist. He was the leader of the Phantom Thieves, not a martyr. He would not accept loss, in either sense of the word.

The creatures drew even closer, some moving at an angle around Joker’s position so as to surround their prey and ensure it could not escape.

Kasumi, her feet slamming into the marble floor, did not notice the sparks of blue flame trickling from her desperate red eyes. Morgana’s head turned.

One of the Byakhee began to swing its grotesque arm.

“Too slow.”

At the snap of Arsène’s fingers, a hail of raw kinetic energy materialized from the air and pelted each and every shadow in its path, driving them to the ground and perforated them with one, two—three holes each. The smell of gunpowder quickly filled the air, stinging Joker’s nostrils, but simultaneously evoking a smile across his face.

Kasumi skid onto the floor, barely registering what had just happened, but nonetheless breathed a sigh of relief. Of course he could pull through on his own. What was she thinking? She would have just gotten in the way, getting them both killed. Probably. That pain of uselessness too, felt familiar, almost like when—

The shadows, though, despite Joker’s normally devastating attack. The grin faded from his face, leaving behind his wicked stare. He by no means expected that to finish them off, but he would have preferred to have caused some more substantial damage.

“Again.”

Another snap of fingers. Another storm of bullets. Blood finally drawn. The creatures stirred, their pain accented with inhuman groans. His vision blurred. Chest and head burned. The taste of blood bit at his tongue, but he stifled any urge to show exhaustion.

“AGAIN.”

A gently shaking hand gripped at the rim of its owner’s mask. Though it demanded far more strength and willpower than it should have, and despite his injuries, he tore it from his face with violent intention, feeling it shatter into nothingness beneath his fist.

This immense pressure within him would not yield to reason. It was barely contained, threatening to break loose at the slightest loss of focus. The mask was a bar in the cage keeping it restrained, and with that gone, there was only Ren’s own composure left to fight it. The urge to give in to the adrenaline in his veins and the tempest of emotion crawling up his throat. Whether it was bloodlust, rage, fear, or all three, he didn’t know, and he didn’t much care. He couldn’t lose himself—not in front of Yoshizawa, not in front of Morgana, not in front of anyone.

Thus, when the third and final storm of bullets hit, he noted that it might have taken more effort to maintain his poker face than to force out that last attack. He nevertheless delighted at the sight of the shadows finally dissipating into viscous black ooze and then into dust, only leaving behind the haphazard splatters of their blood on the pristine white marble.

* * *

Joker and Morgana wasted no further time escaping to the real world with Kasumi. He definitely wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

The sun had already set by the time they left.

Kasumi was relieved to be standing in front of the familiar barriers surrounding the construction site, and as dull as the real world could be in comparison, in this case, she would rather be bored than dead. Fortunately for her, she couldn’t be bored when he was around—especially not after the overload of information she had just discovered about him, followed by an overload of questions, to boot.

“Are you okay, Kasumi?”

Her face tingled when he called her by her given name. “Am I okay? I should be asking YOU that, Senpai! You’re the one who—”  
  
“Seriously, Joker! I shouldn’t have expected any less from our fearless leader! You were amazing, taking on all those—”

“—whatever those things were, anyway. So really, are you okay? It looks like you took a pretty hard hit. Do we need to—”

“—haven’t even seen anything close to how strong those guys were. I can’t believe you—”

Ren raised his hand. While he honestly reveled in the praise (and in kouhai’s concern for him), he couldn’t take much more noise. It already felt like his brain was beating a baseball bat against the inside of his skull; he didn’t need the unnecessary shower of overlapping voices. “I’m fine. Thank you for asking, though.”

Morgana, now in full cat form, stared in admiration with starry eyes. “And you’re still cool and collected after all that. Man, I guess you really learned from the best, huh?”

Leaning against one of the barriers, Ren gripped at his arm. Looks like the adrenaline was finally wearing off. Oh yeah. Definitely wearing off.

Kasumi instinctively lunged forward to support him with her arm, but when he proved to be unexpectedly heavy, she was forced to wrap a second arm around him. She pulled him up to his feet, face dug in his collar. “You don’t have to try and play it off, Senpai! You must be in a lot of pain!”

She felt his weight shift forward, leaning into him.

“S-senpai?” she squeaked.

No response.

“…Senpai?”

Morgana’s ears perked up, tilting his head to the side. “Ren?”

When Kasumi pulled away to look at his face, she was met with closed eyes. She shook him gently, his glasses sliding halfway down his nose.

“Hey, Ren, come on. This isn’t funny,” chided the cat.

She placed her hands on his cheeks, staring wide with concern. Alas, he would not wake, and the only response was the steady rise and fall of his chest taking shallow breaths.

“SENPAI!”


	5. Leader

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not nearly as long as you guys deserve, but it's here. If there seem to be any weird issues with formatting from transferring text over from Word, feel free to let me know if I missed it.

“Does Joker seem…different to you?”

The eruptive roar of a nearby explosion threatened to drown out the quiet conversation.

“Like he’s…way stronger than usual?”

A series of distinctive thuds echoed throughout the dark train station, followed by the hiss of several bodies disappearing.

“Not just that. It just feels like something’s…I don’t know, bothering him? Like he’s constantly thinking about something.”

The other scoffed. “Well, to be fair, it always feels like he’s contemplating.”

“But this feels more…distant, if that makes sense.”

Makoto Niijima sighed, tucked a stray hair behind her ear, and approached the imposing figure in front of her.

“Joker.”

The mask wearing man in front of her turned, the tails of his coat whipping behind him. Rather than respond audibly, he merely raised an eyebrow.

“Are you okay?”

He stared.

“We can save the devastating moves for when we face the more powerful Shadows. You should rely on us equally instead of trying to do it all yourself.”

Joker maintained his silent gaze, only responding after a long, awkward pause. “…Right.”

She stared back for a moment, before something inside her forced her to avert her eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries. It’s up to you, re—”

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry for getting carried away. I’ll try to hold back **.** ”

She stammered. “No, really, you—”

“Queen.” He forced her back into eye contact, where she felt like his gaze reverted her to nothing more than a small child.

“…Sorry.” She grabbed her arm, unknowing of what to do with her hands.

“It’s okay.” He strode past her, momentarily placing a hand on her shoulder (taking care not to impale his palm on one of her spikey pauldrons).

_Hold back?_

While the rest of the team attempted to hide their looks of worry and secondhand embarrassment, he paid little mind, his thoughts primarily wandering somewhere a couple days ago.

* * *

 **_“_ ** **_JULY 17 th – SOMEWHERE A COUPLE DAYS AGO”_ **

* * *

Yoshizawa found herself—once again, for perhaps the third time in her life—at the mercy of what she thought to be death. The subtle rise and fall of Amamiya’s chest conveyed his livelihood, sure, but she knew little to nothing about how the other world worked. Was he still injured? Were there side effects to spending too much time there?

Was there really anything she could do, as she was now?

Tears welled up uncontrollably, a silent waterfall passing from her cheek to the wet dots on Ren’s collar. “Morgana, what do I—” she hiccupped, “—what can I do? I can’t lose him like this.”

Despite his generally uppity nature, he remained calm to the best of his ability, emulating what his best friend would have done. “Don’t worry so much, Yoshizawa. He’s probably just exhausted. It’s just the effect the Metaverse has on people.”

She felt around his arms and chest frantically, using the little medical knowledge she had to judge if he had any broken bones. Surprisingly, no. “But…didn’t he take a big hit earlier?”

Morgana scratched behind his ear with his paw, perhaps as anyone else might scratch their head in thought. “It’s hard to explain, but most injuries we suffer in the Metaverse don’t end up carrying over into reality. Something about the attack being a perception, and so the damage it inflicts is in some way a perception, too? That would be my guess, anyway.”

“Perception?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m sure…” She inhaled, feeling the anxiety bubbling up in her sternum, before attempting to expel as much of it as she could in her exhale. “I’m glad he’s okay, then. I can’t apologize enough for the trouble I’ve caused you two…”

The cat snickered. “It’s what we do, Yoshizawa! Don’t worry about it. Besides—I think he’d appreciate it more if you thanked him.”

Kasumi placed her hand on the top of his tiny, fluffy head, softly scratching it. “I’d have to thank you too, then. You also kept me safe.”

If anything, it was surprising to him that she hadn’t turned the tables and awakened her own Persona. It was pretty much becoming a trend at that point. Ryuji, Ann, Yusuke, Makoto…all of them came unto their other selves at the last possible moment, after some sort of personal revelation. Thinking about it, it seemed like Yoshizawa had been subjected to some sort of trauma to illicit the response she did.

He pursued the thought further. While Persona users were (supposed) to be rare, given all golden conditions—it seemed almost more unlikely that Yoshizawa wouldn’t awaken to one. Was there something holding her back? Or perhaps they had just, by some stroke of luck (or bad luck), encountered the first person who just didn’t have the potential?

Then he realized he didn’t actually know if it was Ren’s Meta-Nav that overheard their conversation and activated automatically like it had before, or if it was Yoshizawa’s. Though, the only time they had entered a Palace accidentally, according to Ren, was Kamoshida’s. The following three times, including Mementos, had been intentional, wherein all of the Thieves had to deduce three keywords.

There was only one way to be sure. “Say, Yoshizawa, could you check something on your phone real quick?”

She retracted her hand, rifling through her bag for her the device. “Uhm, sure? What do you need?”

“…I need you to see if there’s an app with a red and black logo of an eye. You probably won’t remember downloading it.”

Finally in her hand, she tapped at the cracked screen. Then she tapped again. And again.

“Oh…uh. I’m really sorry, but I think it’s dead. It’s been acting up lately.”

Morgana glared for a moment, before deciding it wasn’t worth it. “You should probably get that fixed, then. Either way, could you let us know when you get the chance?”

“Definitely! Can I ask, though, what exactly you mean by I probably won’t remember downloading it?”

“…That’s also a long story. If it turns out you have it—Ren and I will fill you in for sure.” Perhaps wiser than he gave himself credit for; Morgana considered the risks involved in telling someone the exact purpose of the Meta-Nav (if they had it) when they couldn’t even defend themselves. Warnings, in his experience, only bolstered human curiosity. He would know—he was human, after all.

His nose tilted upward, noticing the night begin to overtake dusk. Why did it suddenly feel like so much time had passed since what was probably early afternoon?

“Can you do me a favor?” the cat asked, breaking a brief silence.

Kasumi, eager to repay her debt, was almost elated to be asked. “Of course! What is it?”

“…Could you stay with him for a little bit? Until he wakes up?”

The young gymnast, somewhat forgetting her anxiety, laughed genuinely in what might have otherwise been an impossibly tense atmosphere. “Did you think I would just leave him here? I’m not that cruel!”

Morgana smiled.

What she didn’t bother mentioning, however, was that she planned to stay with him a lot, lot longer than just until he woke up.

“Also…”

“Huh?”

“You’re a talking cat?”

“Oh.”

* * *

Tuesday was a weird day to visit Mementos—but Joker was feeling weird. Not only could he not stop thinking about the events a couple days prior, but now some shadowy group were threatening to ‘cleanse’ the population should the Phantom Thieves fail to meet their demands. Didn’t they know he had better things to worry about? And did it really have to come as a kick in the face after what was supposed to be a celebration, ruined by some torrential rain?

Personally, he felt it wasn’t really worth their time, though he kicked himself for having such an apathetic outlook as the leader of a band of robin hood type heroes. He wasn’t exactly a computer expert, but he understood that no one hacktivist group could wield enough power to overthrow an entire first world government. However, the rest of the Thieves apparently felt differently. Morgana brought up a good point, in that dealing with Medjed and easing the gullible population’s worries would be beneficial to their popularity. He didn’t have the faintest clue, though, on where to start.

So, he gathered the Phantom Thieves and delved into the labyrinth of railways that was Mementos. He generally believed in exercise as a productive way to clear the mind—so graciously burned into his mind by Ryuji and Kasumi’s combined efforts—but even _that_ felt weird that day. The Shadows that usually presented an exciting but not insurmountable challenge barely put up a fight anymore. The twins were allowing him to fuse and wield powerful Personae that he hadn’t even seen yet. The skills that normally drained him considerably he now barely felt any fatigue from using, even generously. Being still relatively ‘green’ to the inner workings of the Metaverse, he could only come up with vague guesses as to why.

His cat knew exactly, however, what had happened—and was unsure if it was more beneficial considering the newfound ease in clearing Mementos floors, or more inhibitive to the progress of the other members. Makoto had clearly noticed and spoke up, but she displayed a surprising lack of confidence in addressing their leader, which was bafflingly out of character. The events concerning Yoshizawa had a profound effect on their leader’s personality, from which he briefly entertained the possibility that it could change his original Persona in some way.

Regarding Joker’s newfound strength, Morgana had taken note of how him and his fellow Persona users tended to grow in power. Defeating many enemies of equal or lower level was one thing—but their major milestones always occurred after felling something considerably stronger than them.

It was no question, then, that Joker had grown immensely from, against all odds, surviving a fight with several Shadows far beyond anything they had seen before. Their leader might have been a step or two ahead of them before, as he somehow manifested the ability to wield a nigh unlimited number of Personae, but now he was in a league of his own.

Even Ann had taken notice, evident from the almost whispered conversation with Makoto that Morgana had overheard. From this, he took it upon himself as their mentor to figure out the best way to approach Joker as he was without alienating him from the rest of the group. Makoto had made a mistake in that regard, attempting to reason with him—out loud—in front of everyone else.

He would talk to him—not as his mentor—but as his friend. The only times they had spoken to each other sincerely was when he was venting his insecurities as an oddball creature amongst the rest of the Thieves, and he had come to realize the selfishness he had displayed in rarely—if ever—asking about how Ren was feeling, deep down. There was clearly a load on their leader’s mind—one that he was keeping from them—thus it was his responsibility to return the favor.

* * *

“Shouldn’t we be focusing on Futaba’s palace?”

It had been another Tuesday—another weird day for a lot of sudden developments to occur. Ren was visibly exhausted from the prior week’s rollercoaster. So, after entering Futaba Sakura’s palace for the first time—on a Tuesday, of course—he elected to spend his Wednesday making up for what he had continually missed. Every time he had to turn _that_ girl’s offers down due to thieving business, he felt an ever-present swelling of guilt. He was sure she had millions of questions, and it would have been nothing but outwardly cruel to leave them unanswered from then on.

Of course, he wanted to talk to her too. So when Morgana insinuated turning right back around and delving back into that pyramid, rather than hyper-focus on the task at hand like he usually did, he figured he would make use of the near entire month they had to handle things.

While he thumbed through his phone, arriving at his existing instant messaging conversation with Kasumi, he reclined, indicating he had no intention of donning the mask that day. “We’ll be fine,” he affirmed to his cat.

Morgana felt a little guilty for asking, if he was honest with himself. He never did really get around to talking to him, and he knew he was probably really tired, so…

“Right. I think you deserve a break, anyway.”

That was unusual. Ren tilted his head.

Avoiding eye contact, Morgana leapt off the spine of the sofa and trod towards the table near the stairs of the dusty—yet somehow still cozy—attic. “You should go see Kasumi. I’m sure she misses you, what with how much we’ve been having to deal with lately.”

“What do you mean by that?” Ren was beginning to get the impression his cat knew a little more than he did.

The cat nonchalantly wet his paw, rubbing it across his head. “I think she’s a little more fond of you than you think.”

Ren’s chest tightened. “You think?”

“For sure,” he snickered.

It wasn’t like him to display more than a modicum of excitement over anything. Thus, before his own curiosity exceeded his restraint, and after setting up an appointment with his own personal gymnast, he left Leblanc—looking forward to the brief time he would have to be alone with his thoughts on the train ride there almost as much as the time he would spend with Kasumi.

Meanwhile, Morgana mulled over the mental notes he had been taking.

Joker was confident—skating just before the line of arrogance. His confidence was backed by meaningful, competent leadership and overwhelming strength. When outclassed, he displayed an exceptional ability to utilize every small advantage they could to tip the scales of war in their favor, whether that be through impeccable strategy or quick, on the fly thinking. What separated him from the elites they sought to wrest control from was his humility—though he was always stronger than the rest of the team, he displayed a charisma that treated them as equals and motivated them to always keep moving forward.

In their recent outings, however, he almost appeared bored. The tactics the Thieves normally employed had been all but replaced with Joker deleting everything almost instantly, whereas before, even with his compendium, the rest of the party’s strength was needed to overcome their enemy. A noticeable apathy had overshadowed his prior confidence, as if he no longer felt the need to take the Metaverse seriously anymore. It made sense—he no longer needed to pour his maximum effort into maintaining the power he needed to enact change.

And when change came so easily, it could easily be taken for granted.


	6. SCRAP: Takemi's Office Scene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ren wakes up in Takemi's office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of what was supposed to be Chapter 5, but I decided to skip it entirely. While I won't be using the material here, I thought the little bit I wrote might have been interesting to share.
> 
> I ended up scrapping it for a few reasons:
> 
> 1\. I decided that, even though it would have made for an interesting conflict to explore, it would ultimately hinder the progression of this particular story if Metaverse injuries DID carry over into the real world. For example: Futaba's Palace was right over the horizon, so I thought--"how the hell would the Phantom Thieves deal with that while their leader was all pieced up?"
> 
> 2\. I think I'm proud of some of the dialogue here, but something about it feels...too fast? Like I didn't allot enough time for the two new characters in this scene to be introduced. While I of course assume everyone has played through the game, to me it takes away from the story if I don't give more fleshed out context as to the protagonist's history with these characters.
> 
> 3\. Kasumi, Morgana, and Ryuji dragging an unconscious Ren all the way from Odaiba to Yongen-Jaya didn't make a whole lot of sense.
> 
> 4\. I decided it would be more interesting to explore a Ren whose inner conflict goes further than just damaging himself, to the point of even intimidating the other thieves with his sudden change in personality. I won't spoil the ultimate consequences of this change, but I love to get people theorizing.

A wave of blue flames.

A familiar sensation of pressure.

A head of red hair, clad in black, embraced by a pristine blue figure.

A voice he recognizes.

_It must be impossible to move on._

He reaches for a weapon that isn’t there.

_I can help you._

He clutches for a mask that no longer curtains his face.

_You don’t need to pretend anymore._

* * *

This was a ceiling Ren knew all too well. After several incidents in which he had tested Dr. Takemi’s experimental drug and passed out for a variety of reasons, he had almost come to expect waking up on the cot in her back office. Odd, though, that he had managed to get here from Odaiba. His memory was a little unclear as to what exactly had happened after him, Kasumi, and Morgana escaped the palace—or whatever it was. One thing that was very, very clear though, was that he was in pain. A lot of pain. He gripped at his arm, now encased in a cast, which pulsated violently, as if berating him for having the audacity to return to consciousness, allowing his nerves to feel _everything_.

He sighed, noting that it also hurt more than it should have to do so. As he shifted, he noticed a soft purring by his head, where Morgana was curled up, asleep, by his shoulder.

“…fogging up his glasses completely. Was freakin’ hilarious. Actually, I have a picture—see?”

Oh. Well, at least he wasn’t alone.

“Oh my,” one of the voices giggled. “I had a feeling he was really a dork under all that brooding.”

“You have no idea. There was this other time—oh, I think he’s awake!”

The source of the two voices turned their attention to Ren, who betrayed his wakefulness with his sigh and an almost inaudible groan of pain. Kasumi, who was seated right next to the cot, nearly tackled him, throwing her arms around his shoulders in what felt like a chokehold, considering how unusually strong she was.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Senpai…” she said, once again burying her face in his collar.

Ryuji, who turned out to be the other voice, beamed with the same laidback suggestion that Ren had come to love about him. “Hey, man. How’re you holdin’ up?”

“Never—” he winced, swearing under his breath, “better.” His arm reached around Kasumi’s own, patting her lightly on the back of her head, half in affection and half to tap out of the impromptu wrestling match they were apparently having.

She pulled back with teary eyes, sniffling. “I’m so sorry, Senpai! This all happened because of me! If I hadn’t wandered in further—if I hadn’t wasted time crying—if I hadn’t been so useless, you wouldn’t have—”

Ren’s heart thumped, his brain running circles in confusion. Yeah, what she was saying was awful, but man she was cute when she cried. “Hey, it’s alright, really I’m just glad you’re—”

“I must be the worst—I understand if you don’t—”

Ryuji quickly stepped in and planted both his hands on their heads to ruffle their hair. “Aw, come on, don’t worry about it. Ren’s saved my ass more times than I can count.”

“Which isn’t a high number, I’m sure,” chimed in Morgana, who yawned as he stretched his body out with an efficiency only felines could manage.

“Oh, you’re awake. Of course the first thing you do is mock me!”

The cat sat up straight, nonchalantly licking his paws. “That’s because you guys are loud. Though I owe you one after today, so I’ll let it slide.”

Ryuji rolled his eyes. “Anyway, that’s just the kinda guy he is, so don’t go blamin’ yourself for something he chose to do.”

“Ryuji’s right. Besides, it’s not at all your fault we got attacked.”

Kasumi swept her wrist across her cheek, brushing away the glint of a small stream of tears. “…I still wish I could have done something, though,” she mumbled after a brief pause, as if reluctant to accept his words.

Only Ren noticed the glint in Morgana’s eyes.

“Anyway, I’m glad to see you’re okay, Ren. I knew you’d be fine, of course.” The glint directed itself toward Ren, shifting to smugness from whatever was on his mind previously.

“You say that, but you were freakin’ out too, Morgana.”

“I was not!” he puffed.

The door at the other end of the room clicked as the handle turned. As it crept open, it revealed the silhouette of Ren’s favorite (and only) punk-rock doctor.

Tae Takemi entered the room, her presence eliciting an immediate silence from all parties. To his confidants, she was cold and intimidating—short and to the point. But he knew better.

“Hey, Doc.”

Takemi smirked, regardless of the frankly pathetic position Ren currently occupied. “Hey, guinea pig.”

By this point she knew it was useless to ask too many questions. She did tell him, after all, that if he needed anything—anything at all—she would be there for him. Casting a broken arm and prescribing some painkiller was nothing compared to the kindness he had shown her in helping her regain the motivation finish her mission. She had spent so much time atoning for a sin she never committed, and only her sheepish little guinea pig could show her that. He said it was for his exams—but she knew better.

She placed her hand on her forehead. “Look, I didn’t take any x-rays, but it’s safe to say your arm is broken. I would suggest avoiding doing…whatever it is you do for about one to two months. Or maybe—“

It would have been grossly hypocritical of her to suggest he quit fighting altogether, considering where she was now and why. “Nevermind.”

Ren frowned. He was already feeling restless.

“…You may heal fast and all, but you’re going to get yourself killed if you take that for granted. I know you’re probably not going to listen to me, so at least give it a few weeks, okay?”

“That sounds a little better.”

Takemi groaned. “If your friends ever drag your corpse over here, I’ll find a way to bring you back just so I can kill you again. And then I’ll charge them for the inconvenience.”

“Well, I don’t have a job, Ren. Better not die on us, y’hear?” chuckled Ryuji.


End file.
